New Home of Anntichrist S Coulter and Friends

Strap on yer tinfoil hats, kids, ’cause I need help picking up the damned SIGNAL!!!

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter on June 19, 2009 – 2:14 am

This is the letter that I just sent the Fucking Communications Clusterfuck (FCC) about how after 5.5 days of “digital transmissions,” I’VE LOST ALL OF MY FUCKING TELEVISION SIGNALS ALTOGETHER.

Happened NOT that long after I posted my last M.O.B. rant, including a few choice words for Michael Powell et al., including Lowry Mays, Rupert Murdoch, and the rest of those corporate whores. Think that there’s no connection?Feel free to speculate. Enjoy the letter, and I can’t WAIT to see if it gets bounced by a fucking LANGUAGE BOT.

I e-mailed this link to the few NOLA bloggers who speak to me, and haven't heard a peep, don't know why they'd be any more interested in this than anyone else, THEY live in a metropolitan area (what hasn't been turned into fucking SUBURBS and CONDOS by now!), THEY pick up all their signals crystal-clear!

And thank you for the support, Terrible, though I doubt that sending it to the White House would accomplish any more than getting me put onto another "watch list," like that fucking PLAGUE sign at the entrance to this blog.

Went over to the full letter/post @ the storage unit and guess what?

NOBODY READ THE DAMNED THING BUT Y'ALL, AND NOBODY FUCKING COMMENTED AT ALL.

Here's my comment from there:

Not one single comment.

Well fuck me sideways and call me Lefty.

Makes me wonder why I even bother, honestly.

The readership, even the "accidental" referrals from bestiality google searches has dropped-off CONSIDERABLY since the fucking PLAGUE SIGN WAS POSTED ON HERE, THANKS TO CHICKENSHIT REPUBLICUNTS RUNNING TO BLOGGER LIKE AUNT PITTY-PAT, SCREAMING ABOUT US GIVING THEM "THE VAPORS".

Well, fuckit.

If our semi-faithful visitors are put off by THAT horseshit, then they didn't really give a fuck in the first place, did they.

As, I'm learning more and more as I skid into my dotage, applies to more than a couple of people whom I'd been naive enough to consider my "friends."

I *know* who my REAL friends are, and that they're not going anywhere. The rest of you rotters can just kiss my wide, white, gelatinous tattooed ass.